I held them up and out, thinking he was going to go get us some towels.
He took off his shirt.
I must have gaped because he paused. “Is this okay?”
I could only stare at the way the droplets of water clung to his skin and slid down… down into the waistband of his low-slung jeans.
“I just wanted to use it,” he said softly, stepping toward me cautiously like I was a bird with a broken wing. “To do this.” He used the end of the shirt to wipe my face and eyes, cleaning away what was left of my tears and what happened earlier.
I started to close my eyes again, but I forced them to remain open. I wanted the satisfaction of seeing him, of getting an eyeful of all that skin.
My arms began to feel tired from holding them out for so long, but I ignored the burning and continued to look my fill. His chest was completely hairless and it glistened beneath the water.
I found myself reaching out toward him, just wanting to see what he would feel like.
He shook his head slowly. “You’ll get wet.”
“I don’t care.”
He smiled. “I do. Bryant did a good job on those bandages. You need to leave them on all night.”
I sighed, robbed of something I wanted so badly. He gave a deep chuckle and directed both my arms back around his neck to rest on his shoulders.
“Can I touch you, Katie?” he asked, his voice husky and low.
I nodded, wanting more of the way he made me feel before.
He started at my elbow, running his hand down toward my armpit where he skimmed lightly over the sensitive skin and continued down my side, leaving a trail of heat wherever he went. I was wearing a white top that buttoned up the front. It was an A-line style, so it was tighter up top and then sort of floated out around my waist. The skirt I wore was snug and black; it fell at a modest length (because it was for work) but still above the knee. I’d been careful about the choices I made when I picked up some new clothes. I needed pieces I could wear for work and more casually because I was only able to buy a few things.
It was a cute outfit, but right now I hated it. It felt like a block of concrete covering my skin. It was a too-thick barrier between him and me.
His hands went to the buttons, fingering them, playing with them. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not trying to push you, or rush you.”
I swallowed thickly as he pulled at one of the buttons, gauging my reaction. I wanted to scream for him to rip it off already, but I didn’t.
When I didn’t say anything, he bent so he was looking directly into my eyes. “I just want to explore you. I want to really see you. We’ll leave our bottoms on, okay?”
“It’s no fair,” I said.
He looked at me with a quizzical look in his eyes and tilted his head to the side.
“You get to touch me, but I can’t touch you.”
His smile was slow and sly. “Good. I don’t want to share this moment. Not even with you. I’m going to be purely selfish right now, Katie. I’ve been longing to touch you like this since that first night you stayed here. This is my turn. Your turn can wait.”
He said nothing else as he slowly began to unbutton my top. Even after it was completely open, it didn’t fall away like it would have if I were dry. It clung to my body, still concealing most of my skin.
He used his index finger to slowly trace a line, starting at the waistband of my skirt and slipping upward, right in the center of my stomach and chest where my shirt was slightly parted.
I shivered at the way it felt.
When he got to the top, he used both his hands to slip beneath the edges and push it down, only it wouldn’t go very far because my arms were up. I gave a nervous giggle and lowered them, still keeping them out of the spray of the shower. He peeled off the shirt, taking extra care to watch my injuries. He moved so slow that I became impatient and made a sound in the back of my throat.
He tossed the shirt over the shower curtain as the warm spray slid over my shoulders.
Thank goodness I bought a pretty bra.
All my bras I had before were no-nonsense, plain things that served their purpose. But when I went shopping the other day, I gravitated toward the lacy, girly undergarments for reasons I didn’t understand.
But now I did.
My subconscious was secretly hoping that someone (Holt) would see them.
It was a peach tone, made almost completely of lace with a little tiny bow in the center. The straps were silky and smooth, and when I put it on, I instantly fell in love with it.
I glanced up at his face, wondering if he liked it too. I noticed his hands kind of floated over my body, not quite touching but too close to call it anything but. He was looking at me with a sort of awe in his eyes that made me feel silly for ever thinking I wouldn’t be anything but beautiful in his eyes.